


Drabbles

by 1poet_1



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: How Do I Tag, M/M, Meet-Cute, My First Fanfic, please excuse, sorry I know it's not Christmas anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28856199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1poet_1/pseuds/1poet_1
Summary: Dan is en route to buying multiple Christmas jumpers for himself (don't ask why - obviously alcohol was involved) but his quest is derailed by children and possibly an angel (no, he is not drunk anymore).
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Drabbles

Dan really hated shopping centres. He hated the mind-numbingly loud chart music blaring through the speakers. (Really, how was anyone able to concentrate on what they were even looking for when you had a different song blasting your every thought out of your head from every storefront you rushed past?) He hated how the horrible retail environment brought out the worst in people. (Was it too much to ask for someone to apologise when bumping into him? Could people not simply be _nice_?) But most of all he hated shopping centres right before Christmas. They made his head hurt. Blinking lights in every imaginable colour, tacky (and, let’s be honest, creepy) Santa figurines and piles of fake snow surrounded him wherever he turned. He was getting dizzy and he felt his heart beat faster than normal. Dan tried to focus on his breathing instead of the sickly-sweet vanilla scent that was wafting over from the candle and decoration shop he was currently standing in front of and tried to recall the directions Ralph had given him. Suggesting a place where Dan could find not just a single Christmas jumper, but _five_ , must have been an attempt for Ralph to make up for the horrendous forfeit he had come up with. Because Dan was certain that Ralph knew he would hate every minute of this ordeal. This being Dan’s absolute nightmare: He, Dan Smith, loser of stupid bets, idiot under the impression he would be able to outdrink Ralph, and absolute hater of everything festive, had to wear an ugly Christmas jumper to his work shifts at the bar for the remaining five days before Christmas Eve. And the jumpers had to all be different. Maybe he didn’t really hate shopping centres, maybe he just hated Ralph.

When Dan had managed to calm himself down a little bit, he remembered that the candle shop had actually featured heavily during Ralph’s description of the way to Christmas-heaven (or hell if you asked Dan). This was due to a certain obsession Ralph had developed with Sarah, the lovely lady who had sold him many a candle since he’d found himself in the shop on the lookout for a gift for his sister’s birthday. To be honest, Dan had been wondering to himself why, over the last few weeks, the _Red Lion_ had changed its decor from the traditional, slightly run-down country pub aesthetic to something that could basically pass for an exhibition space for scented candles with a well-stocked bar. Thinking back to what else Ralph had said after waxing lyrically about Sarah’s beautiful hair and the dirty jokes she told him at their first meeting, Dan had a hazy memory of Ralph directing him only a little further than Sarah’s place of work.

Suddenly, Dan was harshly brought back to reality. One second, there was a child clutching his right leg, and the next, the little boy had literally fallen at his feet, narrowly avoiding Dan’s heavy winter boots with his face. Still, if from shock or pain, an ear-piercing wail eminated from the body as soon as it had hit the hard, fake-marble flooring. Immediately, Dan bent down to pick the boy up. He was crying a little more subdued now, but Dan was still worried he had hurt himself. While helping him stand back on his feet, Dan looked him over to assess for visible damage. There were no signs of serious injuries as far as Dan could tell, but he realised that the boy must have tripped over his long scarf. It was hanging nearly completely undone from his neck, ends trailing on the floor.

‘Hey buddy, are you okay?’ Dan was kneeling in front of the boy now, peering up into his tear-stricken face. ‘Did you hurt yourself?’ Unfortunately to Dan's great horror, the boy, who Dan assumed to be of early primary school age, did not seem calm enough to answer. Snot was dripping from his tiny nose and mixing with his tears as he stared down at his palms. Dan could still not see even a scrape or a scratch on the boy’s hand but he knew how it could hurt to catch a fall from personal experience. Embarassingly, his own last drunken stumble had landed him in A&E with a sprained wrist.

Again, the boy’s sobbing pulled Dan back from his thoughts. ‘Shhhh… You’ll be okay, it’ll stop hurting in no time’ Dan tried with his most reassuring voice. ‘We’ll find your parents and everything will be fine, okay?’ When the boy nodded his head and stopped sniffling for a minute in response to his question, Dan felt absolute relief. Smiling at the boy in a matter that he hoped would calm him further, Dan stood up again to look around for the boy’s parents. It seemed like in the few moments Dan had been fixated on the child in front of him, every single living being had left the shopping centre. The hustle and bustle had subsided nearly completely, and there was no-one around them who looked like a parent, or even someone just searching for a lost child.

Dan could feel himself start to panick again. How was he supposed to find the boy’s parents now? He didn’t know who he was even looking for. If he didn’t find them, would he have to take care of the boy, take him back to his flat? He couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone someone else. But he was the adult here.

In the exact moment that Dan crouched down again and debated joining the boy in crying on the floor, a figure appeared in the entrance of a shop a few storefronts down. Later on, Dan would deny, deny, deny, but in this instant, he believed the man walking purposefully towards him to be an angel. The twinkling Christmas lights on the ceiling framed his face beautifully, creating a real-life halo, and competed with his beaming smile for brightness and Dan’s attention. Surely, this heavenly creature must be his saviour.


End file.
